


Five Times Hoxton Didn't Understand Swedish - And One Time He Did

by iamcrystalqueer



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamcrystalqueer/pseuds/iamcrystalqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Wolf is a little shit, and forgets how to speak English</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Hoxton Didn't Understand Swedish - And One Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Lucas, because it was his birthday, and he is Wolf/Hox trash. ♥

1.  
Every time they got back from a heist, Hoxton always took a moment to appreciate that they all survived. They were definitely some reckless sons of bitches, and in the back of his mind, he knew that one day one or all of them were going to get killed for it.  
Just not today.  
Today they were all alive and well, with barely any injuries to complain about. Sure, Chains was limping slightly, and Clover got shot in the shoulder, but at least they were nothing fatal.  
It was a good fucking day, and a good fucking heist.  
Wolf was happy too, yelling his Swedish chants to show it ever since they got back to the safehouse; something he usually only did when he was either too drunk or too emotional.  
Hoxton chose to assume that it was the latter making the Swede revert back to his native tongue. At least, he hoped so.  
However, you could never really be sure when it came to Wolf.  
“ _Segern är vår, segern är vår! Vi har vunnit, segern är vår!_ ” the Swede yelled again, finally dropping his mask off on a counter to reveal a wide grin on his face.  
Hoxton shook his head with a roll of his eyes, removing his own mask, and ran a hand through his hair, loosening it from its hair tie in the process.  
“Come help us with the fucking loot, instead of celebrating, Wolf!” Dallas barked from the doorway, carrying a huge duffle bag on either shoulder.  
Wolf didn’t stop his nonsense, choosing to stubbornly continue singsonging those foreign words, but at least he did as he was told.  
Honestly, Hoxton had no clue what the words meant, but seeing as Wolf looked over the moon, he figured that it was better than one of the other’s horrible mood swings. That didn’t stop him from being an absolute dork in the Brit’s eyes, though.  
Hoxton shook his head again and followed after the Swede, deciding to help empty the van before Dallas got the idea to gripe at him, too.

  
2.  
It was a quiet morning in the safe house. And with no heist to prepare for, everybody took advantage of the extra time to sleep in.  
Hoxton lay in bed with Wolf cuddled close to him, the Swede’s face nestled in his neck and his arms wrapped around his scarred torso.  
Wolf always turned into a fucking octopus when it came to cuddling, but Hoxton didn’t really have it in himself to mind. It felt nice to have someone to be close to like this.  
Still, he wanted to get up and have his morning tea, and, unsure as to whether or not the other man was awake, Hoxton tried to very carefully remove himself from the other’s clutches. He got an answer to his question, when Wolf sleepily complained in response.  
“ _Nej, du ska stanna här. Jag har inte gosat klart”,_ he mumbled, tightening his grip around Hoxton and making the Brit sigh in slight annoyance, even if there was no real heat behind it.  
“Wolfie, I need to get up and make some tea,” he muttered, gently running his fingers over the Swede’s bald head.  
“ _Nej, jag är viktigare. Du ska stanna här”,_ Wolf stubbornly replied, the sound muffled in the crook of Hoxton’s neck. Not that the listener was able to understand a word of it anyway. Regardless, he was pretty sure of the general idea of what Wolf was trying to tell him.  
Hoxton couldn’t help but smile at him, because even though the other was a grown ass man, he was still acting like a fucking child. He tried to convince himself that hated how endearing it was.  
“I think Chains’ awake and made some coffee. What if I bring you a cup? Will that make it better, little Wolfie?,” he suggested, hating, or maybe loving, that he had to bargain his way out of bed; even with Wolf only giving him sleepy Swedish nonsense to go on. The other man seemed to consider his proposition for a moment, before finally letting go of Hoxton with an annoyed huff.  
“Fine. You better get your ass right back in bed as fast as possible, though,” he grumbled, his accent pretty thick, but thankfully in English.  
Hoxton smirked and rolled out of bed, but not before pressing a soft kiss to Wolf’s forehead without thinking about it. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  
3.  
Things were not going nearly as well as expected.  
Then again, none of them actually thought that dozers would be on the scene already. It was supposed to be a simple bank heist, but now they were running for their fucking lives.  
Chains and Dallas were already in the van, Hoxton only a few steps behind, but Wolf was nowhere in sight.  
“Wolf! Get your fucking ass in gear! We’re leaving!” Hoxton yelled anxiously, unwilling to leave without the Swede. Dallas and Chains were calling to him to get moving as well, but he refused to get in until Wolf was with them.  
Thankfully, the Swede soon came into view, running as fast as he could towards them with a duffle bag on his back and another in his hand.  
The Brit did what he could to keep the SWAT officers at bay, but he didn’t dare to move too far away from the van, prepared to dart inside at any moment for their quick escape.  
Wolf was only a couple of meters away from them, when a fucking taser got to him, leaving the Swede unable to move, due to the contractions caused by the electric shock. This left him open to the rain of bullets that was being exchanged between Hoxton and the SWAT officers, and the shock of the bullets caused him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, dropping the duffle bag he was had in his hand in the process.  
The gang worked quickly after that, with Dallas storming out of the van and Chains preparing the medical kit. Hoxton tried to provide cover for Dallas as he made his way over to their fallen man.  
The American looped his arms under Wolf’s and attempted to drag him back to the getaway, the Swede cursing heavily as they went, and left the bag behind in favour of getting the other to safety.  
Chains hauled Wolf and the last of their spoils inside the van, as Dallas yelled, “Hoxton, get the fuck in here!” who obliged without comment.  
The Brit took a deep, relieved breath the second the doors closed and they sped off.  
He knew that it was far from over though, since Wolf was pretty badly hurt and bleeding all over the place.  
At least he hadn’t stopped complaining about it, which mean that he wasn’t dead yet. Hoxton decided to take that as a good sign.  
“ _Jävla taser._ _Fan ta dem! Fan ta dem! Jag hoppas att de hamnar i helvetet!_ ” Wolf cursed to no one in particular, hissing whenever Chains expertly dug out a bullet. It was impressive that the ex-Navy SEAL could even work so well in the back of a speeding vehicle. Then again, he was probably used to it by now. This was far from their first rodeo.  
Hoxton knelt down next to Wolf, trying to comfort him as best as he was able.  
“It is okay, Wolfie. Chains’ gonna patch you up just fine,” he cooed, even if he wasn’t entirely sure as to whether or not Chains could fix this mess.  
“ _Jävla taser! Må han bränna i helvetet!_ ”

  
4.  
Getting Wolf drunk was always a risky fucking business. The man was unreliable while sober, and it only got worse when he had been drinking.  
Dallas had felt that they needed to celebrate though, and had decided to drag them all to a local bar. Despite the dangers involved with getting Wolf drunk.  
Luckily for the gang, the alcohol had a pleasant on the Swede for once. He was laughing, and dancing with Clover and Sokol, obviously having the time of his life. They were celebrating a couple of particularly successful heists, giving each other a much deserved break.  
The rest of the gang had claimed ownership of one of the tables, all them keeping casual conversation with one another, and sipping a drink of their choice. They didn’t usually get to see each other under such relaxed circumstances, but it was a nice change of pace for all of them.  
They were only human after all.  
Hoxton was in a heavy discussing with Bonnie about football, not fucking rugby, real proper football, when Wolf decides that he’s had enough dancing, and wants to join them again. He does this by plopping down on Hoxton’s lap, oblivious to the conversation the Brit and Scott were having.  
“Hi Hoxtinator,” the Swede exclaimed, as he wrapped his arms around Hoxton’s neck, allowing himself to nestle in closer to the Brit. “ _Har du saknat mig?_ ” He asked, grinning widely.  
Hoxton softly wrapped his arms around the Swede, fearing that he would fall over if he didn’t.  
“Hi Wolfie,” he says with a soft smile, looking over to send an apologetic look to Bonnie, who didn’t seem bothered by the situation at all, and had struck up a conversation with Dallas instead.  
“Are you having fun?” Hoxton asked, even if it was very obvious that Wolf was having the time of his life. The Swede nodded enthusiastically, almost pulling both of them off the chair in the process. “ _Ja, jag har kul,”_ Wolf reported, hiding his face in the crook of Hoxton’s neck when he was done talking. ” _Jag är trött, Hox,”_ the Swede mumbled, and even if Hoxton didn’t understand the words, then he understood the meaning that Wolf was trying to convey.  
”Getting tired, huh? I think that we are leaving soon and then you can get to sleep, how does that sound, Wolfie?” he asked, softly running a hand down Wolf’s back, causing the Swede to huddle in closer. The rest of the gang seemed to be collecting their stuff together and preparing to leave, which seemed like the sensible thing to do, seeing as it was getting late.  
“ _Ja, jag vill gärna hem, hem och sova,”_ Wolf grumbles, followed by a loud whine. Hoxton didn’t really know what to do with the tired Swede, but he really hoped that the others would get his and Wolf’s stuff as well.  
“Come on, Wolfie. Don’t make me carry you home,” he said in a tired voice. It wouldn’t be hard for him to carry Wolf home, but he would honestly rather not.  
The Swede looked up at him through his lashes with a soft pout on his lips. Hoxton knew where it was going, and he is not a fan.  
“ _Jag kan inte gå,_ ” Wolf whined, cuddling in closer to Hoxton, who just sighed in resignation. Even if he didn’t understand the words, then he understood the meaning.  
He got up from his seat, lifting Wolf with him as he went.  
“Come on, Wolfie. Let’s go home.”

 

5.  
A bad case of the flu had been haunting the safe house the past couple of weeks, and Wolf was the last in the house to get it. He had been laying in bed the past couple of days, cuddled up in blankets, and generally looking and sounding pathetic.  
Despite the sickness not being fatal, then Hoxton still did what he could to make sure that Wolf was comfortable. The Swede had done the same for him, when he was down after all, so it only seemed fair that he would return the favour.  
“How are you doing, Wolfie?” Hoxton asked in a soft voice, as he entered their room with a cup of chicken noodle soup. Wolf groaned loudly, and shuffled around on the bed, trying to get more comfortable.  
“ _Bara döda mig. Jag känner mig redan död,”_  he muttered, against the pillow he was hiding his face in.  
Hoxton simply shook his head at him, and softly sat down on the edge of the bed, as he placed the cup on the nightstand. “That bad, huh?” He asked, even if he didn’t know what Wolf was saying. He just assumed that it was bad, when Wolf had to revert back to Swedish.  
Wolf only hummed softly, and turned so that he could look at Hoxton. The Brit softly ran a hand over his bald head.  
“I brought you some soup. Dallas made it, and it’s not bad. Try and eat something,” he prodded, knowing that Wolf hadn’t eaten all day, which worried him. It probably didn’t mean all that much, he knew that you tend to lose your appetite while sick, but he still wanted to make sure that the Swede didn’t die.  
“ _Jag är inte hungrig,”_ Wolf whined, still hiding in blankets and his pillow.  
Hoxton shook his head, and made sure to tug Wolf in properly. Even if the Swede was pathetic, then he also looked somewhat cute all tugged up like that. Hoxton leant down to kiss Wolf on the forehead, making the Swede huddle closer into his blankets with a pleased noise.  
“Try and eat something, yeah? Can’t have one of our heisters starve to death in bed.”

 

6.  
It was a chilly evening out, but Hoxton had still taken to sit outside the safe house to smoke. Most of the gang were smokers, so it wasn’t really like anyone minded people smoking inside, but sometimes he just had to be alone for a bit and clear his head.  
It was a surprising clear evening, and loads of stars were littering the heaven above. Hoxton was looking up at them, occasionally blowing out a huff of smoke.  
He heard the muffled sound of feet against the concrete, and felt the bench he was sitting on move a little, as another person sat down next to him.  
“What are you doing out here in the cold?” Wolf asked, looking over at Hoxton with a soft smile.  
Hoxton shrugged, not sure what to tell Wolf. He just liked sitting outside sometimes, and he figured that that wasn’t a crime.  
“Smoking,” he stated with a shrug. Wolf leant against him, and Hoxton wrapped an arm around him, still looking up at the sky.  
He blew a large huff of smoke, as he gently started caressing Wolf’s arm, enjoying the quiet moment between the two of them.  
“ _Jag älskar dig,_ ” Wolf muttered, almost too soft for Hoxton to hear it.  
Hoxton did hear it though, making him drop his cigarette on the path in front of them, and kill the last ember with the heel of his shoe. He looked down at Wolf with a soft frown, and a shake of his head, before leaning down to kiss his forehead.  
“I love you too, you wanker.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Swedish may be a little iffy, and I truly apologise to any native Swede reading this. Tho having to write Swedish as a Dane was a fun challenge.  
> However, to the rest of us normal people (fuck u sweden), here are the translations of all the nonsense Wolf has said in this fic:  
> 1.  
> Segern är vår, segern är vår! Vi har vunnit, segern är vår! = Victory is our's! We have won, victory is our's!
> 
> 2.  
> Nej, du ska stanna här. Jag har inte gosat klart. = No, you have to stay here. I am not done cuddling.  
> Nej, jag är viktigare. Du ska stanna här. = No, I am more important, you have to stay here. 
> 
> 3.  
> Jävla taser. Fan ta dem! Fan ta dem! Jag hoppas att de hamnar i helvetet! = Damn taser. May the devil take them! I hope they end up in hell.  
> Jävla taser! Må han bränna i helvetet! = Damn taser! May he burn in hell!
> 
> 4.  
> Har du saknat mig? = Did you miss me?  
> Ja, jag har kul = Yes, I am having fun.  
> Jag är trött, Hox = I am tired, Hox  
> Ja, jag vill gärna hem, hem och sova. = Yes, I wanna go home, home and sleep  
> Jag kan inte gå = I can't walk.
> 
> 5.  
> Bara döda mig. Jag känner mig redan död. = Just kill me. I already feel dead.  
> Jag är inte hungrig = I'm not hungry
> 
> 6.  
> Jag älskar dig. = I love you
> 
> some of these may seem a little wonky translated, but i wanted to keep as true as the swedish meaning as possible. sorry for long author's note at the end, but now you have translations. boop.


End file.
